


The Barren Empty Sights

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Brother/Brother Incest, Bruises, Dubious Consent, Fist Fights, M/M, Marking, Moral Ambiguity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: Dean says he's not in the sharing and caring mood, but Sam needs to talk about what he said in the asylum as much as he needs to take his next breath.





	The Barren Empty Sights

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the "Asylum" episode.

Dean says he's not in the sharing and caring mood, but Sam needs to  
talk about what he said in the asylum as much as he needs to take his  
next breath. He waits until they're pulling up to their motel room  
before he dares to open his mouth. He's figuring that Dean has had  
plenty of time to cool down and process everything. When Sam opens his  
mouth, he realizes he's wrong. Dean's hands tighten on the steering  
wheel.

"Shut up."

"Is that an order?"

Sam wants to be contrite, but bile rises in his throat instead. Dean  
cuts his eyes at Sam for a second before shutting off the car and  
climbing out, slamming the door. Normally, Sam can tell what Dean is  
thinking just by his expression, but this time, Dean is completely  
unreadable. Sam frowns at Dean's back as Dean enters the motel room.  
He can feel the earlier rage consuming him again. Why can't anyone in  
this family ever express their emotions like a normal person?

He gets out of the car and stalks after Dean. The window rattles when  
Sam slams the motel room door. Dean doesn't even flinch.

"Goddamn you," Sam snarls.

His hands clench into fists when Dean ignores him and proceeds to take  
off his jacket and empty his pockets instead. Sam tries to count to  
ten, to take deep breaths, anything, but this isn't going away. If  
anything, Dean is making it worse. Sam grabs Dean by his shoulders and  
spins him around before shoving him up against the wall. His forearm  
pins Dean against it.

Dean stares at him impassively. "I told you, I'm not in the mood for this shit."

Sam's hands move to shake Dean's shoulders. "You're never in the mood  
for it and I'm sick and fucking tired of it."

"I'm tired," Dean says as he tilts his head slightly. Sam almost lets  
him go, but then Dean adds with that tone of command in his voice:  
"Let me go."

"I'm not you. I'm not the good little soldier. I can't follow orders  
blindly. Not Dad's and especially not yours."

Sam can feel himself get angrier and angrier with every word. He's not  
entirely sure why. Shouldn't Dean be the one feeling like that? The  
confusion rising in a panic around Sam's heart causes him to step back  
slightly before swinging at Dean's jaw, knocking his head back against  
the wall with his fist. Dean's never been one to back down from a  
physical fight with anyone. His eyes are ice when his head whips back  
toward Sam. Sam knows Dean is going to punch him in the gut before he  
feels the stabbing pain of his fist, still, he doesn't try to defend  
himself in that moment. He hunches over and waits until Dean gives a  
slight nod before turning on his heel toward the bathroom. That's when  
Sam barrels into him from behind and knocks him to the floor.

Before Dean can catch his breath, Sam flips him over and starts  
alternating between hitting him and digging his fingers into his  
shirt, pulling him up only to slam him into the floor again. Dean  
gives back as good as he's getting; hitting, biting, scratching,  
trying to flip them over and get in control. That only fuels Sam's  
rage. He's tired of playing beta to Dean's alpha. He's tired of saying  
he won't blindly follow orders but doing it anyway, for the most part.  
Mostly, though, he's tired of Dean not letting him in. They're  
supposed to be all the other has in the world now that Dad's missing  
and Jess is dead, yet there's this wall between them that seems to be  
growing with each passing day. Sam wants to tear that wall down. He  
wants to force Dean to let him in, whatever it takes.

Dean's shirt rips easily when Sam pulls at it; it's so old and used  
that it was practically see-through anyway. His fingernails rake down  
Dean's chest, heading toward his belt buckle. The wide-eyed, confused  
look in Dean's eyes should make him freeze, but it doesn't. If  
anything, it spurs him on. His knees pin Dean's biceps to the floor as  
he yanks off his own shirt. Dean pushes up, trying to flip them over  
again, but Sam slides down his body too quickly for that. His fingers  
trace the start of a bruise on Dean's left side, near the bottom of  
his rib cage. Dean's mouth opens, but quickly snaps shut as Sam starts  
to bend his head down. His fingers twist in Sam's hair. Sam isn't sure  
whether he's trying to pull Sam away or push him down. When his teeth  
dig into Dean's flesh, right over that bruise, Dean howls.

"Jesus, Sammy. What the…"

The words trail off as Sam bites down hard. Hard enough to draw blood.  
He can taste the metallic tang of it on his tongue; he almost swears  
he can hear the rush of it through his body as he swallows it. What he  
doesn't hear is Dean screaming at him to stop, not really. It's a dull  
roar until Dean finally manages to pry Sam away.

"What's gotten into you? Did that psycho doc fuck you up more than we thought?"

Sam gives him a small smile before licking the blood off his own lips. "No."

He bends his head down again, this time to take Dean's mouth in a  
hungry kiss. Dean moans, in protest probably, but his fingers dig into  
Sam's back like he doesn't want to Sam to stop. All Sam sees and hears  
is red; he doesn't even realize that Dean's got the upper hand until  
he feels the cheap carpet scrapping against his back.

"You're probably possessed or something. Gotta go back and salt and  
torch the whole fucking building, just in case."

Dean moves to get up, but Sam locks his legs around his waist. His  
fingers come up to clutch at Dean's shoulders.

"I'm not. I promise." He grabs Dean's left hand and presses it against  
a bruise that mirrors the one on Dean. His eyes bore into Dean's.  
"Please?"

"No."

The word comes out choked, like Dean had to force it out. His eyes are  
very readable now and Sam can tell he's arguing with himself about  
something. Whatever it is, it's scaring the hell out of Dean, and  
Sam's never quite seen him like this before. He strokes Dean's face  
with his free hand.

"I just…" _I want to be close to you. I want to know you like no one_  
else does. I want to get inside you; I want you to get inside me.  
"You're all I've got, Dean."

Dean makes a pained sound. For a second, Sam thinks that Dean is going  
to wrench himself away and disappear for awhile, but then Dean bends  
his head down and takes a matching chunk out of Sam's flesh. Sam  
arches up into his mouth as he pants and growls. His fingers dig into  
the back of Dean's neck, pulling his head up when it becomes too much,  
and licking the blood off his lips. Dean is flat on top of him and Sam  
can feel the slickness of blood where their wounds are pressing  
together. His hips press up into Dean's, desperate for more, but Dean  
breaks away from him and scrambles over to the far corner. It reminds  
Sam of a child scrambling away from something it's afraid of, but  
Dean's never been afraid of anything.

Sam starts to move toward him, but the sound Dean makes stops him.  
It's almost a whimper, a cross between pain and fear. Dean's eyes are  
wide and he's breathing like he just ran a marathon.

"Please, Dean, I just want to—"

"It's not always about you and what you want, Sam."

The implications of the words are harsh, but the tone is calm and  
soft. Sam bites his lip and then hangs his head. They sit like that in  
silence for the longest time, then Dean gets up and offers his hand to  
Sam. Sam looks up at him without taking it.

"C'mon, we gotta get cleaned up. I'm tired."

Sam nods and takes Dean's hand to help himself up with. Dean drops it  
as soon as Sam is standing and walks away into the bathroom. Sam knows  
then that things have changed, and probably not for the better.


End file.
